


The Diamond Affair

by ohmachete



Series: The Del Floria Affairs [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Espionage, Gen, Heist, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate, Multi, Pre-OT3, Screenplay/Script Format, Slow Burn, Spa Treatments, Training, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9091219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmachete/pseuds/ohmachete
Summary: After a rigorous affair, the team is prescribed with some much needed vacation time. However, Solo has other things in mind for budding agent, Gaby Teller. When Napoleon's old tricks stir up some trouble, the team whisks away to Tijuana under the guise of a vacation affair.





	1. The Dry Run

**Author's Note:**

> Back from a long long hiatus. For the sake of continuity, I decided to indeed stick with screenplay format. Here is a bit of a teaser for the holidays and the new year, to give you a taste of what is to come!
> 
> For any new readers, this is the fourth affair of a series! This fic references events tied into older affairs. It is best read in order to understand. Thank you!

NEW YORK CITY, USA. BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER 1963

MIDTOWN - LATE AFTERNOON

The begins to hang itself in the sky, beginning to dip towards the steep Manhattan skyline. A baby blue chevrolet corvair turns from a suffocating block of traffic, on to a quieter residential street. It tucks itself into a tight spot along the curb as The Beatles' Do You Want To Know A Secret filters out through cracks in the rolled down windows. 

GABY TELLER draws up her bare knees to the steering wheel, eye pencil tucked between her two fingers as they tuck up a pair of canary yellow sunglasses from the bridge of her nose. The toe of one shoe dances to the beat of the music as she makes minute adjustments to her eyeliner. 

On the street, man in a crisp navy pinstripe suit steps down an indiscreet stoop. He pauses to draw his sleeve up to check his watch for the time, precisely 5:50. NAPOLEON SOLO glances up from his wrist at the car spilling its noise into the street. His eyebrows furrow with a slight turn of his chin, wrought with a confusion caught in curiosity. 

Gaby toils away, chin tilted up with her mouth slightly agape. Entirely oblivious to Napoleon's quiet approach to her passenger side. She's leaned in, nearly nose tipped to the lip of her compact as he finalizes touch ups to her eyeliner. 

As she leans away to admire her work, Napoleon startles her with a tap on the glass. Briskly, she snaps the compact in her hand shut as she looks over to see Napoleon's dumb charming smile waiting patiently as ever. Half dumbfounded, half offended, she merely continues to stare at him until he points at the lock mechanism on the inside of the window. 

After a hesitant moment, she turns the radio down and leans over to oblige him. 

NAPOLEON SOLO 

( as he opens the passenger door )

Thank you. 

Gaby shuffles one leg back down into the foot-well of the car, already stuffing her supplies back into the small compartments of her bag. It doesn't take three seconds for Napoleon being seated before he's glancing around the interior of the car. The first thing he spots is the pile of bags and boxes from various department stores thrown in the back seat. 

GABY 

( coolly )

Funny seeing you here. 

NAPOLEON 

( disregarding her comment as he resumes sitting forward )

You don't waste any time at all. 

GABY 

( shrugs )

Not really, I just happened to come across the right...opportunity. 

Napoleon's gaze narrows, trying to decipher the woman before him. 

NAPOLEON 

If you're cleaning, blink twice, I won't say another word. Or just cleaning out? You know what they say 'don't spend it all in one place' or maybe in this case, one day.

GABY 

( rolls her eyes )

What I do with my money is my business. Or are you just bitter you weren't around to dress me up like a doll. 

Napoleon brushes off her accusations with a smile. 

NAPOLEON 

( with a gesture of his hand )

I meant the car. 

GABY 

I'm borrowing it. 

NAPOLEON 

Ah. 

( his eyebrows raise, waiting for her to elaborate further )

Any plans for it? 

Gaby scoffs, moving to turn the ignition on. There is a gap in the traffic ahead, she's seeing to taking advantage of it. 

GABY 

( smug )

Aren't we curious. 

NAPOLEON 

( brushing her off with a fresh breath )

My night freed up. You said you were interested in continuing your education. Unless you plan on being otherwise engaged.

GABY 

( tiresome )

I told you, I'm not stealing a painting or a manuscript or a fertility statue from the Easter Islands. 

Napoleon frowns in concession, as if considering changing up their options. 

NAPOLEON 

( lightly )

How does breaking into a guarded warehouse grab you? 

Gaby shoots a glance his way, looking rightfully confused. 

GABY 

( incredulously )

Is this what a vacation is to you? 

NAPOLEON 

( humbly )

It's not for me. Dry run only. We can put your lock picking and safe cracking skills to use in a real but controlled environment. 

GABY

( repeating and sounding increasingly unimpressed )

A dry run. 

NAPOLEON 

No strings. Fully approved. Encouraged, might I say.

Gaby shakes her head to herself, looking back out the window with a feigned disinterest. She wets her lips, running over the temptation whilst Napoleon waits patiently for her to come to a decision. He checks his watch. 

GABY 

( blase )

Sure. Why not. 

A smile springs to Napoleon's lips, he's won. 

NAPOLEON 

( adjusting forward in his seat )

Atta girl. First off. You'll need tools. Weapons. Sensible shoes. 

GABY 

( dryly )

Is there some spy boutique we need to stop by? 

NAPOLEON 

I'm afraid wholesale spying hasn't caught on yet, but we continue to fight the good fight. Stop by HQ on the way there, I've already arranged for your replacement kit.

U.N.C.L.E HEADQUARTERS 

The cafe on the corner is pulling its chairs up for the night as Gaby waits parked along the curb. She checks the rear view mirror every few seconds and catches herself looking irritated after the fact. Her fingers drum to the radio in attempt to kill the time. 

Napoleon emerges shortly out of Del Floria, a garment bag slung casually over his shoulder. His pace picks up as he reaches the passenger side of the car, helping himself in as Gaby refreshes the engine. After ditching the garment bag into the back, he reveals a concealed duffel bag to set between his legs. 

NAPOLEON 

( as he begins to rifle through the bag)

Can you change and drive? 

Gaby gives him a double take before she pulls out into traffic. He waits for her patiently, a black turtleneck sweater draped over his arm when she looks again. Now considering that he's serious, she sits up to shift her dress up above her hips. With a knee carefully balancing the steering wheel, she reaches over and snatches the turtleneck out of his hand. 

GABY 

( throwing her dress in his face )

Anything else you want me to do? 

Napoleon continues to give her privacy by not looking over. Instead, he's preoccupied with a boy in the car over looking with his mouth agape. He circulates his finger to turn the boy around while Gaby fights the turtleneck on in the seat beside him. 

NAPOLEON

( keeping politely to himself )

Nothing I should say out loud. 

At last, Gaby pulls the turtleneck over her head, static charged hair clinging to her cheeks. Napoleon falls back in his seat to hand Gaby the next thing in the bag. 

GABY 

( grumbles as she takes a boot to start wriggling her foot into )

Please. 

Napoleon pauses to glance across his seat at her. His mouth pressed with an amused smile, unsure whether to speak up to it. 

NAPOLEON 

Don't leave them off on my account. 

Gaby looks over to see a pair of pants draped over Napoleon's arm. Her cheeks flush once she realizes her state of undress. Flustered, she snatches the pants out of his hands. 

GABY 

( trying to wriggle into pants, be angry, and drive )

Enjoying yourself? 

She doesn't seem to catch him watching her plight as if he were glazing at a television set. After a moment to consider her question, he pulls his gaze to leave her be. 

NAPOLEON 

Generally. 

BROOKLYN WAREHOUSE DISTRICT - DUSK 

The buildings begin to thin out as their car passes through the borough down towards the shipyard. The traffic is absent, roads quiet as the light begins to drain from the sky. The corvair pulls into the shoulder of a contracting office, the headlights click off. 

Inside, Gaby is fixing her hair into a high pony tail as Napoleon changes into his own recon gear. Most of it, to Gaby's surprise, is already on beneath his day clothes. He passes on a pair of gloves across her steering wheel as if it were silly of him to forget in the first place. 

GABY

( while tying her bangs back with a scarf )

Do you mind telling me what I'm up against, or am I just going in blind? 

NAPOLEON 

( rifling through his bag for one more thing )

It's a simple assignment. No interaction, in and out. Don't get caught. What else is there to know? 

He comes up with a tactical knife with a quiet 'aha' look, as if he'd just forgotten. 

NAPOLEON 

Hold still. 

Gaby pauses her preening as Napoleon leans over to holster the knife to her thigh. She follows his trajectory with an itching suspicion. 

GABY 

Seems a bit much for something so simple. 

NAPOLEON 

Better to need it and have it, as they say. 

Gaby wets her lips, as if refraining to speak her mind. Whether or not Napoleon notices, remains left unsaid as he finishes equipping his own effects. 

NAPOLEON 

The lot is gated, we'll have to scale it.

GABY 

( with a waning patience, she smiles over at him )

Anything else?

Napoleon smirks back at her, hand along the edges of the door as he begins to pull himself out of the car. 

NAPOLEON 

It's all you. Let's see what you can do. 





	2. The Dry Run pt.2

BROOKLYN WAREHOUSE - DUSK 

A lone guard stands post at the loading dock, cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. The bare lightbulb above his head flickers with the pats of moths hitting the hot glass with disgruntled buzzes. He turns his sleeve to check at his watch ticking away a quarter till eight. His gaze sweeps the empty lot once before he turns from his perch and begins to make a loop around the perimeter. 

As the gravel crunches away beneath his boots, Gaby's head peeks from around the corner of the yard to see him go. She waits patiently for the guard's last steps to turn the corner. Napoleon stands right beside her, watching with a baited curiosity to see where the little German goes next. When she doesn't seem to move, he has to ask. 

NAPOLEON 

( quietly )

What's your plan? 

She doesn't answer, her eyes seem to dart around the loading yard as if it were hidden in plain sight. 

GABY 

( with a shaking confidence )

Wait for him to complete his round. Take the fire escape. 

Regardless of Napoleon's intuitiveness to her ill-conjured plan, he makes no show of it and nods simply in return. 

NAPOLEON 

Okay. 

With his approval (or lack of disapproval), Gaby keeps low as she turns the corner into the yard. Napoleon follows after, looking at the dock door as if it were a lost cause. Gaby instead makes a turn into the alleyway after the drifting security guard. Her fingertips grazing along the wall as she sinks quietly into the shadow of the building. 

A second story ladder dangles along the back wall beside a tower of narrow windows. Eagerly, Gaby reaches for the lowest rung that sits far above her head. With her fist only grasping air, she hops again with a unprecidented wince, her other arm immediately wrapping around her ribs. Behind her, Napoleon carries on down the other end of the building with his hands neatly behind his back. Curiously, he tips his head around the corner. As Gaby toils with soft grunts in the background, he returns to her with a mild clearing of his throat. 

NAPOLEON 

( hesitant as if not wanting to intrude )

Might I suggest something more simple?

Gaby snarls, turning to look at him as he stands in the alleyway open-handed. He waits for her to detach from the ladder to join him at the other end of the building. To his left is an exit door, handless, with a keyhole. He makes a key jiggling motion when she glances back at him. 

GABY 

( harshly whispers )

But you didn't give me any-- 

Before she can finish, Napoleon procures a small satchel he'd been holding on until the right moment. Seeing as she has been left without a choice, her shoulders fall with a defeated puff. Napoleon smiles. 

From the pack, she picks a torque wrench and a pick from their leather bounds. Napoleon stands idly by to keep watch as she begins toiling away.

Gravel crunches from around the corner, tugging at Napoleon's attentions from Gaby. The guard is making his way back around again. At Napoleon's side, Gaby works away at the lock with her teeth bared down on her lower lip. It's taking longer than normal, leaving Napoleon to futz urgently looking between the oncoming guard and Gaby ticking away.

Desperately, Gaby rattles at the door between her attempts. Napoleon's hand hovers behind her, ready to take over, when the lock finally gives from Gaby's vigorous tugging.

The metal hinges CREAK obnoxiously as Gaby prys the door open wide enough for the both of them to pile in. Just as the guard's flashlight scrapes down the wall, Gaby presses the door shut and locks it. 

BROOKLYN WAREHOUSE - INTERIOR 

Gaby waits with her hand stilled against the door. After a beat, she releases a long-held breath. Behind her, Napoleon begins taking a survey of the warehouse. A lone strip of lights illuminates the main veins, blocked by rows and rows of ceiling-high bays. The falling footsteps of a darkened figure tap the metal grating above them, drawing Napoleon to reel Gaby underneath the empty staircase near the office. The two lean slightly out as the guard lumbers to a stop as his radio crackles on with static. 

GUARD 

( over the radio )

Dawson. To the yard for rotation. 

The guard lets out a berated sigh, dragging his feet down the stairs. As he turns to leave, Gaby and Napoleon recede with their backs against the wall. They both watch as Dawson exits the door from which they just came. 

NAPOLEON 

( reaching into his bag as he speaks quietly)

See? It's not so terrible. Don't tell me you couldn't get used to this. 

Gaby takes another cautious breath to still her nerves, as Napoleon steps away from the wall shaking a can of paint. 

GABY 

( with scrutiny )

Speak for yourself. 

Napoleon steps carefully around to spray paint on the camera facing the office door. He looks around along the landing above them before spotting another camera clunkily mounted to oversee the warehouse center and paints it as well. As he steps back, Gaby joins him, looking a bit lost for cause as for what they're looking for. Napoleon draws his sleeve back to check his watch. 

NAPOLEON 

We'll have exactly 8 minutes to locate the crate, break into the safe, retrieve the objective and get out before the guards come back. 

Gaby's expression falls from unease to alarmed, looking at Napoleon as if he'd just thrown her to the dogs. Instead of give her any further insight, he begins to ascend the stairs half turned as if looking for something else. 

GABY 

( hisses )

8 minutes? I can't do eight minutes. 

Napoleon stops mid step to look down at her. 

NAPOLEON 

Yes you can. We'll have to split up, and avoid that guy. 

He points to a guard up on the catwalk making his way down towards the front end of the building. 

NAPOLEON 

It just arrived today, so that should make it easy. I'll take the upper floor. 

Gaby watches him go with a few seconds of their precious time, before taking off in another direction. 

The two scour the place on each respective level. The unit is packed full of crates, boxes, and pallets stamped with different dates and origins. The variety is dizzying. Napoleon's trained eye only needs so much a glance and a flash of his pen light to give or pass a package, however Gaby has surrendered to instinct. She dances around the lights streaming down from the catwalk and sticks to the shade, hoping for something to just stick out at her. 

Above, Napoleon has finished his round and keeps a close eye on the guard along the catwalk, who has not grown wise to the unwelcome company. He doubles back to find Gaby, tapping his pen against the railing to grab her attention.

Gaby is still somewhere on the floor, but she's spotted it tucked away on the ground floor of a bay. A new looking hinged crate patched with only one or two stamps. Without waiting, she gets to cutting the padlock.

Napoleon checks his watch again, still without having Gaby in sight. He looks up to find the guard making his way back, and recedes quickly into an inlet between boxes to wait for the guard to pass. Instead of continuing to circle the catwalk, the guard decides to go downstairs. Napoleon's nose snarls with a brief flit of frustration before choosing to follow him.

Meanwhile, Gaby has tugged the crate apart and spilling stuffing out into the bay with her flashlight pinned between her teeth. Her hands graze away the last bit of packing to find a safe nestled in the center of the crate. A small triumphant smile warms her face before she backs up into the aisle to flag Napoleon down as he's gone looking for her himself. Napoleon kneels before the crate, shining his light across it with an inquisitive stare. 

NAPOLEON 

( reaching into his bag )

Diebold FID 573506 SMNA class C with a relocking device. You're going to need this. If you miss a number in the sequence it will seize and relock, and we will go home empty-handed and very unhappy. 

He procures a stethoscope for her to take and glances back down at his watch. Gaby sets the stethoscope in her ears and settles in to begin. 

GABY 

How much time do we have? 

NAPOLEON 

( hesitant )

2 minutes. 

Gaby moves in, deciding there's just no more time to delay. Napoleon keeps watch, checking his watch periodically while Gaby ticks away with her head against the safe. Her fingers twisting meticulously slow, listening for a tiny tick. As time passes on, Napoleon's glances grow just a slight bit more troubled. Gaby has continued on so far her hand is cranked at an awkward angle and she loses her place. 

GABY 

Scheiße! 

Furiously, she rips the stethoscope out of her ears and throws them at Napoleon before she sinks off in defeat. Napoleon, without missing a beat, catches her by the waist and turns her back. This time, he kneels down beside her and fixes one half of the stethoscope into her ear and the other into his. 

NAPOLEON 

( resetting the dial )

Don't get discouraged. Listen for it. 

He takes her hand and sets it back on the panel beside the dial. 

Across the warehouse, the back door opens again as a guard returns to his circulation. Gaby doesn't withdraw, but glances wearily over her shoulder. They're out of time. 

NAPOLEON 

Ignore them. 

Her eyes close, steeling her wits together before she speaks. 

GABY 

It's 43. 

Napoleon spins the dial to 43, Gaby can hear and feel a soft CLICK. He spins the dial the other way, fingers weaving their way around the dial with ease. Gaby looks back to him with a breath held in her chest, the words not quite coming forward to break his concentration. 

The guard is making his way through the warehouse, looking for the other posted inside, but he's nowhere to be found.

Napoleon kneels with his head tipped to the ground, fingers meticulously cranking the dial as the guard closes in. He pauses and reaches for the gun holstered to his hip and hands it over for Gaby to take. 

A spark of static crackles on a radio left at Napoleon's feet. 

GUARD 

( over the radio )

Osmond's down. We got company!

Gaby's head whips back to meet Napoleon's concerned glance. He leans back to rip the glove from one hand and get back to it. It's more of a challenge than he was expecting to put up, but don't ever let him admit it. 

NAPOLEON 

( tiredly with a list to his head )

Almost there. She's hard to please. 

Gaby nods once, knowing what she has to do now. Without a word, she pulls out the ear piece and leaves him with a passing touch along his shoulder. The guards have yet to find them as she steps into the aisle with the gun held at her side. Napoleon's attention sticks to the safe, letting Gaby do whatever it is she needs to do while he finishes this. Beads of sweat collect along the worry lines of his forehead. Between the warehouse and the radio, everything is eerily silent leading up to two rapid fire gunshots ricochet through the air. A fire bell begins to ring shortly before the sprinklers activate overhead. Through the distant chaos, Napoleon ticks away. His breath hitches at the last CLICK in the safe and he leans away to rip the door open and tuck a beige parcel into his bag. With the glove, he wipes down the handle and the sides of the safe before ditching the radio inside and clambering out into the aisle to find Gaby. 

With the bell droning in the background, the warehouse feels eerily still. Napoleon waits, blinking through the rain and the dark for a sign.

A guard yells, garnering the other's attention before a flurry of gunshots trigger Napoleon into motion. As he carves a path, he stops to look up as a bay rattles uneasily. Above, Gaby is leaping across the tops of the bays like a soloist on a stage. His head turns to follow her as she crosses the aisle to begin climbing down while the guards on the catwalk scramble to find her. At last, they spot each other. Napoleon steps forward to join her, but as soon as he steps into the light, a shot fires out into the crate beside his head. Reeling back. Gaby takes a tenuous step forward, diverting her gaze to suggest he go another way. Instead, he pulls the bag off of his shoulder and tosses it across the aisle to her.

Gaby returns the favor with a confused glance, but before any explanation can be given, the shout of more guards entering the facility waylays them. Napoleon turns to find the guard still looking from the catwalk and takes two shots to steal his attention. As the pull of the guards head towards him, Gaby chooses to run. 

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT 

Gunshots echo throughout the facility as Gaby breaks away over the fence. With a quiet OOMPH, she lands on the other side with the bag hugged to her person. Quickly, she scrambles to her feet and diverts across the street to the shadow of a building across the road. From there, she watches Napoleon squeeze out of the second floor fire escape amidst more commotion as he disappears back down below. She rounds back to the car, strands of wet hair caked in waves around her face. Her fingers are trembling with adrenaline as she rakes the car door open and throws herself inside of it. 

Moments later, the back door opens. Napoleon throws himself into the seat looking no better with his hair in ringlets. Another gunshot rings out as he hooks the toe of his shoe in the door handle to kick it shut. 

NAPOLEON 

( breathless )

Drive. 

The car roars to life. Gaby slams her foot on the gas pedal to peel out as a bundle of guards crash through the loading gate in pursuit of them. Napoleon's head pokes up at the rear view to watch their tenacity slowly die off with the hopes of a foot chase. Once they've turned a corner, he relaxes into the middle of the back seat with a low whistle. 

Gaby, however, is practically glaring daggers at him through the rear view mirror. 

GABY 

( clipped )

So much for a dry run. 

He meets her look with one that speaks volumes to how much he cares if she's upset. A smile says she might have known better the whole time, and yet she still did it. He moves on to check his watch. 

NAPOLEON 

( sounding mildly impressed )

And only six minutes over. Not bad. 

GABY 

( irritable )

Don't even pretend this is still about my training. 

Napoleon looks up with a mocking frown. 

NAPOLEON 

Wouldn't you like to know the grand prize? 

Gaby doesn't answer. She's upset at him because she has to be, upset at herself for thinking he wouldn't drag her along to stoop to such levels. Her silence is wrapped up in her driving until eventually it's deemed safe enough to not be pursued by the police. Adrenaline still trickles through her fingertips. Napoleon doesn't seem to mind, he's too preoccupied retrieving the bag from the front seat and neatly untying the parcel they'd worked all night for. 

NAPOLEON 

( as he leans over the seat to show her )

Israel. Ill-gotten, and so unreportable. 

Gaby looks over to find Napoleon with a cigar box full of diamonds. Some large. Some small. Glittering under the street lamps as they pass. To the better of her, Gaby's mouth falls slack. Napoleon looks proud as if he's showing her his first born child. Gaby looks away, blinking as if trying to reconcile what she's just seen. 

GABY 

( scoffing in disbelief )

I helped you steal a box of diamonds. 

NAPOLEON 

( snapping the box shut as he sits back )

You did. In just the nick of time, too. They were due to change hands, we've caught them mid-shipment. 

Gaby hums, still rightfully irate he tricked her into doing his dirty work while he sits in the back fanning himself with his gloves. 

After a moment, she speaks up to reconcile. 

GABY 

Well. Do I get a cut? I think I deserve it for being shot at. 

Napoleon's head tips to the side to look at her. The box of diamonds comfortably in his lap as he may never leave it out of his sight. 

NAPOLEON 

The experience wasn't enough? 

She catches his eye in the reflection. 

GABY 

( bluntly )

It could be more satisfying. 

His eyebrows raise in response. 

NAPOLEON 

10/90 

GABY 

( stubbornly )

30/70 

NAPOLEON 

( as he pats the box in his possession )

You're bargaining without any chips. 

Gaby's eyes roll, her jaw locking with a bridled anger. 

GABY 

( stiffly )

Don't think I can't make your life difficult if you're going to undermine me. 

Napoleon looks up from the box with a new attitude. Having been playing with her all night, it's the first threat that comes with some weight. Her place, her favorability to Waverly. She's got fire. 

He sits a little straighter now with a smile on his face that's clearly for show, not without a little tension in the creases around his eyes. 

NAPOLEON 

20, then. I've never been accused of being generous. 

Gaby smiles victorious, even though it took playing a dirty card getting there. Regardless of whether she'd do anything to jeopardize his freedom for personal gain. They both know well what she's capable of in that regard. Napoleon hasn't forgotten, especially in that moment as he watches her drive. The fun and games of the night have foiled. He adjusts his seat, setting the box to his side as he undertakes the lull in their conversation without leaving her the last word. 

NAPOLEON 

It adds a little something, the constant threat of being betrayed by your closest colleagues. 

She looks up from the road to match his gaze in the mirror again, her chest rises and falls steadily with the last of her wits trying to work out of her system. 

GABY 

( feigned casualty )

If that's what you're into. 

His gaze doesn't break, yet neither does hers. As if some unforeseen challenge has risen up against them. Unfinished business. 

The car makes a turn a street from the bridge to Manhattan and makes a stop at the curb on a desolate cut of road. Before the tires even roll to a stop, Napoleon is sitting forward to unzip his jacket, and has barely made an arm out before Gaby is in his lap. Her hands wrapped around his face, reeling him forward to meet his mouth in a crushing kiss.

Overhead, a cluster of police sirens wail in hypnosis as they fly down the bridge in pursuit of two diamond thieves absconded into the night.





	3. To Tijuana

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT - ASIDE THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE 

A tugboat idles across the East River late into the night, Manhattan glimmers across the water. The lazy tunes of Santo & Johnny whisper through the cracked window of the corvair. 

Napoleon brushes back an unruly curl that's fallen across his forehead, looking immaculately debauched and sunken into the corner of the car. He winces slightly, removing the cigar box that ended up embedded in his side. He flips the latch to gander at its insides with a smile like a cat with the cream.

NAPOLEON 

So...Business as usual? 

He snaps the box shut, gaze falling back to Gaby across the seat as she fights her dress back over her head. Her pony tail having fallen into disarray, she puffs at a rogue hair stuck to the sweat of her face. She meets Napoleon's gaze, possibly for the first time since, and looks away just as quick as she faces forward to adjust the dress over her bare hips. 

GABY 

( with a forced ease )

Business as usual. 

Napoleon's eyebrows merely flick up in response. He too turns forward to adjust his pants and re-buckle his belt, his smile molded as if he'd just concluded a particularly productive business meeting. 

A FEW DAYS LATER

MANHATTAN - LATE AFTERNOON 

A taxi pulls up to the curb of a bustling sidewalk. A theater around the corner glitzes with bright flashing bulbs, drawing in the giggles of women strutting in glossy pumps and short skirts. The rear of the taxi opens to a man in smart leather shoes drawn under a fine pressed navy suit, it's none other than Illya Kuryakin. He adjusts the knot of his burnt orange, diamond embossed tie and nods his thanks to the driver before closing the door behind him. Down the street, the valet at the theater opens the door to another taxi that's just pulled in. Napoleon steps out with a charmed smile to the valet. He adjusts the button on his waist coat, gaze passing along the swaths of men and women passing into the show. His smile tweaks a bit wider as he makes eyes with a doe-faced girl, who blushes and looks away as if she'd accidentally stared into the sun. It's not them he's interested in. It's the man in the navy suit walking away from him. 

Illya turns his wrist down, brushing back to check his watch again. It is a quarter past six. His brow furrows as he glances up again, tracing the path he must take to navigate against the flow of the crowded street.

NAPOLEON 

Big plans for the day? 

Illya's head jerks to the side to find Napoleon at his side as if he'd just descended from the heavens themselves. His flit of surprise quickly floodgates with annoyance. 

ILLYA 

( brief as he begins to walk )

What do you want, Cowboy? 

Napoleon, lackadaisical in comparison, smiles after him a step or two before following. 

NAPOLEON 

( speaking over one of illya's bulbous shoulders )

Big Russian in the Big Apple. Who knows what kind of trouble you could get into? 

ILLYA 

( annoyed )

Nothing to concern you, that's for sure. 

NAPOLEON 

( amused )

You're being awfully coy. 

ILLYA 

And you are being awfully nosy. 

Illya carves his own path through the crowd, leaving Napoleon to follow in the trail of him. Illya's brushing with an elderly woman leaves her scoffing over her shoulder, Napoleon placates her with a gentle touch to her shoulder as he passes to control the damage of what must be the Red Peril. After they pass, he lifts his hand - now clad with a shiny three layer bracelet, staring at it with a curiosity as if it had caught itself on him. 

NAPOLEON 

( sounding mildly distracted by his sticky fingers)

I have time to kill. And I haven't finished my thirty page report on your every movement for the week, so I thought I'd fluff it up. 

( he tosses the bracelet over his shoulder and begins reciting )

Day four: the target is contemplating asking a woman out again, still deliberating over whether a seven day cruise to the Bahamas would be spontaneous and fun or creepy and assuming. Further surveillance required. 

ILLYA 

( snarls back at him )

Is not a seven day cruise.

They both stop amidst the street. Napoleon holds his hand out as if to present his point is still clear. Illya, visibly steaming at this point, adjusts his blazer. 

ILLYA 

Now if you'll excuse me-- 

Before Napoleon can figure, Illya turns before the entrance to a restaurant and steps inside. His hand still raised, he turns his finger to a point before chasing after him. 

NAPOLEON 

Ah, but it is something. German women are hard to please, you know. Might I suggest-- 

Inside, the host backs away, wide-eyed with a stack of menus pulled to his chest as Illya brushes by him into the dining room. 

ILLYA 

It is not for-- 

GABY 

( interjects )

Not for who? 

Illya and Napoleon both stumble to a halt at Gaby seated at a round dinner table just to the left of the curtain. Illya quickly reposes himself hand smoothing over his suit. Napoleon's surprise, however, remains nothing more than delighted as he draws the chair across the table back and ushers Illya into it. 

NAPOLEON 

( cheerful )

Gaby! The woman of the hour. 

Gaby looks on in confusion, passing an accusatory gaze between the two of them. 

GABY 

( incredulous )

Do I want to know? 

Illya waves his hand dismissively as he settles into a chair that's just slightly too small for him, belatedly doubling back to look up at Napoleon in a moment of perplexion as he arranges a third seat at the table. 

ILLYA 

The American is being presumptuous, as always. 

She looks to him, expecting more of an answer. Though under her stare, he can't help but look away again at the convenience of a menu layered over his plate setting. Gaby stares on a beat until she renders the interrogation useless, instead she looks to Napoleon for answers who is already looping the host in to gathering him another chair. 

GABY 

I didn't know you were coming. 

ILLYA 

( distantly, nose dug into the menu )

He invited himself. 

Gaby looks the host up and down as he moves their place settings aside to make way for Napoleon, who sets his own chair to one side of them. Though before he sits, he looks up between the two of them, as if he'd only just noticed his presence was an aggressive intrusion. 

NAPOLEON 

( innocently )

I'm not interrupting, am I? 

Gaby's chest rises with the intent on speaking her mind, although it never comes to fruition. 

GABY 

Not at all. 

O'HENRY'S STEAK HOUSE 

The dining hall is warm with chatter. Forks and knives clink and scrape across plates among he dull hum of conversation. Among their table, Illya is the last one to finish his meal. He carves quietly into a thick cut steak with a humble side of roasted vegetables. Gaby, whose plate has long since been taken away, rests her elbows on the table with a half glass of wine held between her hands. Napoleon raises one finger to signal the waitress across the room to carry off what's left of his beef bourguignon, nursing a neat glass of scotch and half melted into his chair as the night winds down. He looks across the table at the two of them with a held breath. 

NAPOLEON 

It's great you're both here, because I had an idea to pitch to the both of you. 

ILLYA 

( speaking out of the corner of his mouth )

Of course you do. 

Gaby drowsily raises one eyebrow. 

NAPOLEON 

( continuing )

With a few days left to burn in our vacation, I think we should all get away. I hear it's still warm in Tijuana. There's an incredible resort I've meant to try. Everyone tells me the masseuse on staff may as well have four hands. A true miracle worker. 

Both Gaby and Illya's idling comes to a joined pause as they both look up at Napoleon. 

ILLYA 

Why? 

NAPOLEON 

Because, as you're so eager to remind me, I owe you. Let me show you a good time. 

ILLYA 

( shaking his head as he lifts a bite of steak to his mouth )

You and I have a very different idea of a good time, Cowboy. 

Napoleon's head tilts contrarily, watching Illya dab at the corners of his mouth mid-chew. He looks on, briefly caught up by the dining habits of his compatriot. 

NAPOLEON 

( a beat )

I don't think that's true. 

The fascination ends as Illya folds the napkin twice and discards it on the table, oblivious to Napoleon's scrutiny as he looks across the table once more. 

ILLYA 

What's the catch? 

GABY 

( swirling her glass )

I'm sure the CIA is prickled to know one of KGB's best is lurking around New York city and sent him along to keep him occupied. 

Illya scoffs into his drink. A silence passes where Napoleon pauses to consider, although neither seem affected by Gaby's audacity. She looks up at Napoleon, their eyes meeting in a moment that shares a quiet unspoken understanding. 

GABY 

Isn't that right? 

Napoleon smiles, turning his chin down to his drink. 

NAPOLEON 

I plead the fifth. 

Illya taps his glass back down to the table in a slumped exasperation, his eyes nearly rolling themselves out of his head. 

ILLYA 

( huffs )

This is outrageous. 

Gaby shrugs. 

GABY 

( with an underlying clipped tone )

You have been a bit difficult to get a hold of. 

ILLYA 

( starting to get heated )

What is my business is-- 

Napoleon raises his hand to placate the both of them before their table ends up overturned. 

NAPOLEON 

( gesturing emphatically )

If we have nothing to worry about, it wouldn't hurt to go then right? 

Illya's shoulders slump as his anger deflates under his partner's logic. He hesitates, as if looking for an excuse just solely to keep him from being right. 

ILLYA 

No, but-- 

NAPOLEON 

( cutting him off once more )

Then it's settled. We leave tomorrow morning, I'll have it ready. 

Gaby sputters, having no protest but neither a say in the matter. She simply shakes her head, tending to her wine and not pick a fight across the table. Napoleon kicks back in his chair, grinning in his absolute victory. 

MANHATTAN - NIGHT

As the trio spills outside into the night, Napoleon teeters off to hail a canary yellow cab approaching from down the street. Gaby tightens her coat around her just slightly as Illya stands by, looking unsure of himself to offer. As the taxi rolls to a stop, Napoleon is the first to pile inside, Gaby follows shortly with Illya close behind to close the door behind them. With his gargantuan height, he has to lean down far to see into the window. 

ILLYA

Are you sure you don't want me to take you?

Gaby takes a deep breath, as if not to devolve into another rant about her independent womanhood. 

GABY 

I think I can manage. 

Illya concedes with a long sigh. 

ILLYA

( he tilts his head to narrow his eyes somewhat at Napoleon on the far side of the seat)

No funny business tonight, Cowboy. She needs rest.

NAPOLEON 

( humorously with a nod )

Of course, straight to bed. No dilly-dallying the night before the big flight.

Gaby pauses to look between the both of them with an unforeseen tension. Illya doesn't seem to notice, but Napoleon merely purses his lips and looks out the other window. Gaby looks back to Illya, looking somewhat renewed. She gives him a small smile in parting. 

GABY 

( softly )

Goodnight, Illya. 

ILLYA

( he nods as well, pressing a smile out in return)

Goodnight.

Illya steps back from the taxi, letting it pull off into the street. He waits there with his hand tucked in his pocket until it turns the corner. 

Back inside the taxi, Gaby exhales as if releasing the night's weight off her chest. As she looks across the seat, Napoleon looks as indifferent to it all as ever. 

Gaby narrows her gaze at him. 

GABY 

What's this about? 

NAPOLEON 

( modestly )

Does everything I do _have_ to come with an ulterior motive? 

Gaby continues to stare at him placidly until he comes to a conclusion of his own and turns his attention to her. 

NAPOLEON 

I suppose that's the relationship we've come to, isn't it? 

Gaby raises an eyebrow, obviously critical of his use of 'relationship'. 

GABY 

I suppose it is.

NAPOLEON 

We just need to lay low until it blows over. 

GABY 

( repeating him with increased skepticism )

_Until it blows over_. 

He remains unphased. 

GABY 

( narrows her gaze )

Why are you dragging Illya into this? 

NAPOLEON 

If we went without him, it'd be more suspicious. This way, Waverly will see it as a team bonding exercise, and all we do is sip mojitos in the sand. It's a win/win. 

GABY 

If he finds out- 

NAPOLEON 

( cuts her off with a clipped glance )

He won't. 

GABY 

( lowering her voice to a near hiss)

About the diamonds. 

He looks away from her again, focused on the passing street lamps as she bores into him to no effect. 

NAPOLEON 

What else would it be?

She waits on him to turn back, but soon turns her attention elsewhere with the intention of dropping the subject altogether. 

TIJUANA, MEXICO 

THE ROSARITO 

The streets of Tijuana are alive with music and laughter. A plane soars overhead, crossing off into the Pacific ocean bathed in the warm glow of sunshine. Pockets of the coast are eaten up by ocean-side resorts, wide brim umbrellas and smart dressed men toting trays of cool tropical drinks to women sprawled on trays by a crisp blue pool. 

Inside the Rosarito looks like a tropical palace, palm fronds and exotic flowers spill out from around marble pillars that run down the lobby.

Napoleon is tucked into the seat of a crescent-shaped bar just off set from the lobby. He tinkers with a glass of scotch with his eyes on the room, locked on the ebb and flow of social elite holed up in one of Tijuana's most renowned resorts of the time. A thick fist slams down on the bar beside him, rattling him with a swift turn to find Illya seething at his side. His eyebrows turn up in a brief confusion before a passport reveals itself from under Illya's hand. 

ILLYA 

( offended )

'Bliss Gripp'? 

Napoleon takes a visible breath, looking down at the passport with the name and face in mention. His mouth shuts in a way that attempts to contain his laughter so hard, he looks as if he's in pain. He perseveres with a smile, and takes a drink to subdue the temptation. He reaches over to take the passport and close it. 

NAPOLEON 

( sounding slightly strained )

I think it suits you. You might want to hold onto it, that was very expensive to get on short notice.

As if it weren't enough, he reaches forward to pull back the lapel of Illya's suit and tucks the passport into his inner breast pocket. Naturally, Illya begins to lean back in immediate confusion. 

ILLYA 

( in between fluster and anger )

What. Are you doing. 

NAPOLEON 

( pats his chest over the pocket before releasing him )

Tempting fate. I hadn't had any near death experiences in the last twenty-four hours and I was getting bored. 

( he smiles, as if this was all acceptable )

Where's Gaby? 

Illya fumbles, standing back and adjusting himself after being emotionally disarmed. He takes a beat to reset himself to be able to answer the question. 

ILLYA 

She is in our room, changing.

Napoleon nods, turning in his seat to return to his drink. 

NAPOLEON 

You're welcome, by the way. For the room. 

ILLYA 

( brushing it off )

It was not necessary. 

Napoleon raises his hand to alert the bartender, who then comes over to prepare a second drink. 

NAPOLEON 

I think it was. Now here, it's basically a crime not to drink in this town. You're here to loosen up, remember? 

He sets the second drink in Illya's hand and clicks it with his own. 

NAPOLEON 

Viva la fiesta. 

Napoleon winks at him before finishing off his drink. Illya merely looks down at his own before damning it all and taking a mild sip. 

ILLYA 

( setting the glass down )

There will be no near death experiences here, Cowboy. You might as well get used to boredom. 

NAPOLEON 

( sighs )

You've never heard of la petite mort, I take it. Actually, I look forward to the spa. 

ILLYA 

( unimpressed )

I have seen the pamphlet, it is incomparable to Russian bath.

Napoleon winces, in obvious disagreement. 

NAPOLEON 

Unfortunately, the rest of the world doesn't think getting whipped with wet branches is very relaxing. 

( he pauses a beat, and looks to him )

I take it you won't be joining then. 

Illya, still focused on his drink, doesn't answer immediately. He takes another sip and glances around the bar, looking for nothing in particular but to get a lay of the land. Nothing more than the habits of a spy or a soldier. 

ILLYA 

( sets the drink down as he turns to leave )

Maybe later. 

Napoleon turns with a crass smile and shakes his head as Illya goes. 

NAPOLEON 

( calls after him )

Don't ever let anyone tell you you're too much fun. 

ROSARITO POOLSIDE - AFTERNOON 

A row of lounge chairs and cherry colored umbrellas line the sides of the hotel pool. Women in block colored bikinis and cat eye sunglasses swing their legs and sip at tall glasses lined with fruit and little umbrellas. A young waiter boy with olive skin bounces around the chairs, picking up glasses and dropping off drinks. 

Gaby lies among them, hidden beneath a pair of thick round glasses that eat up half her face. The rest of her basks under the glow of the sun in a gauzy pull over with a fringe that tickles at her thighs. As the waiter rolls by, she sits up to take the drink off his tray with an appreciative smile. As he turns away, she looks down to see the spatter of bruise revealed on her exposed hip, to which she pulls down her beach cover to hide. She settles in after a thick sip of her drink, relieving a content sigh as her chin tips up to soak in the sun.

As she enjoys herself, a shadow begins to eclipse her little ray of sunshine. The contented smile turns into a frown. 

GABY

( in a polished tone )

Can I help you? 

NAPOLEON 

( while snatching up her drink )

Not as well as Raoul, I fear. 

Gaby's eye cracks open to see Napoleon standing over her, fishing a slice of pineapple off her cocktail skewer. She slowly sits up in disbelief as he moves her legs aside to take a seat on the lounge chair. 

GABY 

( huffily )

If you're going to send me off into exile, can't you at least leave me in peace? 

Napoleon feeds her an apologetic look that isn't really apologetic at all before he hands the drink back to her. 

NAPOLEON 

I might have a favor to ask. 

She lowers her sunglasses down her nose to get a good look at him. 

GABY 

Depends on the favor. 

NAPOLEON 

I've arranged to meet with the fence tonight. Their flight will come in at 6. 

He pauses with a tilt to his head, as if waiting for her to inquire further. She takes the sunglasses further off her nose to further advocate how little he impresses her. 

GABY 

( coldly )

What does that have to do with me? 

NAPOLEON 

( gestures to her )

Your face, specifically. Past experience leads me to believe we could net an additional cut if you're the one doing the negotiation. 

She looks away, scoffing as if she's been led up once again. She fixes her sunglasses back on her face before lying back, having wholly decided to ignore whatever it is he has decided to get into this time. 

GABY 

( mumbling )

I knew this was too good to be true. 

NAPOLEON 

( gives a short sigh)

The sooner a deal is cut, the sooner we get out of this. 

Just because he can't help to not be looked at every waking minute, he leans over to tip her sunglasses down. She glowers at him, before brushing his hand away to fix them back up. 

GABY 

Don't tell me this is also a part of my training. Isn't 'woo'ing people kind of already your thing? 

Napoleon concedes, only to look away innocuously with a brief exasperated sigh. 

NAPOLEON 

It is. And I did. I think her exact words were, "if I ever see you again, I'll cut your throat"? 

GABY 

( smiles )

I'm beginning to feel her sentiment. 

NAPOLEON 

I think you'll have a lot in common. 

He waits for her to decide, which she takes a beat before rolling her head away for just being to bothered to have to help him. 

GABY 

When and where? 

Napoleon smiles, knowing he's won. 

NAPOLEON 

The Marina. Six o'clock. 

He moves to stand, adjusting his blazer accordingly now that business is taken care of. 

NAPOLEON 

Don't let her find out that we're involved and don't hurt her feelings. 

GABY 

Does she know you're here? 

NAPOLEON 

Technically, yes. I did call her. 

GABY 

( raising an eyebrow )

And if she asks about you? 

Napoleon shrugs, cleaning the lenses of his own sunglasses before resting them on his face. 

NAPOLEON 

Naturally you despise me and I owed you a favor. 

GABY 

( snorts, reaching for a sip of her drink )

Should be easy to pull off. 

As he turns to leave, he hesitates and swivels on his heel as if he's just remembered. 

NAPOLEON 

And be careful that she doesn't swindle you, because she will try. Don't take anything less than two, and any more than that you can keep. 

GABY 

On top of my cut.

It brings him further pause, clearly narrowing at her though she can't see his eyes. She raises her eyebrows, leaning forward to rest on her knees until he answers. A smile forces itself across his lips as he tips a nod and makes his leave. 

NAPOLEON 

Of course.




**Author's Note:**

> \-----------------------  
> This is a part of a series transcribed from a private MFU roleplay. The screenwriting format has been softened so that it is more digestible to read without all that technical mumbo jumbo.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support so far and don't forget to bookmark this series for updates!


End file.
